


The Long Run

by temporalgambit



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fake Science, M/M, Schmoop, Sickfic, Sneezing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 12:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13811313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporalgambit/pseuds/temporalgambit
Summary: Kiibo gains a new insight into the human experience.





	The Long Run

**Author's Note:**

> shameless kiibo snz/sickfic because i’m a goddamn monster. all robot science is 100% fudged to suit my dastardly narrative.

Shuichi enters the dining hall not to the usual scene of classmates seated around the table, but instead to a crowd of onlookers gathered around…god knows _what._ While immensely curious about what could cause this much interest this early in the morning, a sense of dread weighs heavy in the pit of his stomach when he realizes _Miu,_ of all people, is leading the discussion.

“—and then I installed it, and it works _perfectly_ of course, because I _knew_ it would, and here we are!” she announces, wild laughter punctuating her declaration.

Shuichi scans the outside of the crowd, quickly locating Kaito and giving him a tap on the shoulder. “What did I miss?” he whispers.

Kaito turns far enough around to give him a shrug and a dubious look. “Not much. Miu’s saying she gave Kiibo a _cold_ , of all things.”

“I’m _saying_ it because I _did_ it _,_ dick-for-brains!” Miu shouts. How she’d managed to hear their subdued side conversation is beyond Shuichi. “Behold, shitheads!” she gestures dramatically towards what Shuichi can only guess must be Kiibo, if the white tuft of hair he can see over Kaito’s shoulder is anything to judge by. Kaito steps aside, giving Shuichi an unrestricted view of the robot himself.

The very first thing he takes in is the expression on Kiibo’s face. He looks puzzled and mildly embarrassed, but not nearly as upset as Shuichi thought he would be at having been tampered with. Does that mean Miu had installed this… _whatever it is_ …with his permission? Moving on from that mystery, however, leads Shuichi to the obvious: regardless of _how_ this state came about, there’s no denying the fact that he looks genuinely _ill_. He’s flushed, his eyes are rimmed red, his nose is pink, his posture is stooped, he doesn’t look particularly steady on his feet, and Shuichi has about a million pressing questions he never knew he needed the answers to, because he is only just now realizing _he has no idea how Kiibo works._

If Miu truly had initiated this with the intention of making the robot sick, she’d apparently done an _excellent_ job.

…Not that Shuichi would ever dare mention so.

Instead, he turns to her with a different train of thought. “Why would you install a program like this?”

She shrinks back for a moment, but regains confidence just as quickly. “Two reasons, so pay attention _._ One: this program mimics the attack patterns of a bunch of _way_ more malicious viruses. So once it runs its course, Kiibo will be immune to those flimsy outside attacks!” she stands proud.

When no immediate second explanation follows, Shuichi prompts, “And…?”

Miu pretends to think on the matter, “Shits and giggles.”  
  
“You—” Shuichi balks, “—you _what?_ ”

“Well, _yeah,_ of course that’s the second reason, tit-licker,” she scowls at him. “When’s the last time _you_ gave an AI the ability to experience something up-until-now limited to organic meatsacks like us? Huh? _Huh?!_ ”

“Okay, okay…” Shuichi backpedals, knowing there’s no winning this argument, “but, still…Kiibo, you’re _okay_ with this?”

“Hm?” Kiibo appears to snap out of some internal thought process. “Oh…” he makes a sound like he’s clearing his throat—of _what,_ Shuichi has no idea—but then continues, “Yes, it’s fine. I was hesitant when Miu first suggested it, but I _have_ been hoping to learn more about the human experience, and this felt like a good way to do it…” a long pause, “…It _is_ more unpleasant than I expected, but it can also serve as a lesson in empathy, so in the end I think it will have been worth it.” He gives Shuichi a smile.

Shuichi reaches out to pat him on the back. “Well, I’m glad you’re in good spirits, Kiibo.” He turns his attention back to Miu, “You said this would have to ‘run its course’. How long will that take, exactly?”

She regards Shuichi with a scornful look. “It depends. I don’t have all of his exact specs mapped out, but it should take longer than a day, but shorter than a w—”

“ ** _TSCH!_** ”

She stops. Blinks. Shuichi stares back.

“ _Hih_ — ** _TSCH!_** ”

They both turn to face the source of the noise at once. Kiibo glances between the two of them with wide eyes.

“W-what i— _hh—h- **TSCHH!—**_ what _is_ that?”

Shuichi wants to laugh, but the blatant _panic_ on Kiibo’s face prevents the situation from being very funny. “It’s a sneeze, Kiibo—nothing to worry about. Just a sneeze.”

“A sneeze…” Kiibo freezes, only now realizing he’d been scrubbing the underside of his nose with the back of his hand. “It…feels weird. I don’t think I like it.”

Miu breaks her silence and outright _laughs._ “Sorry, but I made the virus as close to the common cold as possible, so you’re in for a shit-ton of those! Thank me later, when you’ve got thick fluids _oozing_ uncontrollably from your body…” if the look on her face wasn’t enough, the lust in her tone would give her away immediately.

“Thick—what? Oozing from _where?_ ” the panic is back, and Shuichi once again steps in as mediator.  
  
“She means you’re going to have a runny nose, that’s all.” Shuichi tilts his head to the side, “…Actually, your nose is running _now_. Does anyone have—?” 

Kiibo gasps, hands flying up to cup over the lower half of his face.

Shuichi accepts a pack of tissues thrust out by Tsumugi. “It’s okay, move your hands…” he coaxes, extracting one from the plastic, “I’ll um…I guess I’ll teach you how to blow your nose, but for now…” he pinches Kiibo’s nose gently with the paper, wiping away the worst of the mess with the first swipe, and picking up the rest on the second pass.

Kiibo watches him intently, face a mixture of embarrassment and fascination.

As soon as he’s finished, Shuichi feels his cheeks heat up at the realization that everyone is still staring _._ He looks around awkwardly, avoiding so much as glancing in Miu’s direction as she bolts off, loudly screeching something about “needing to be alone.”

Too obvious.

“So, um,” he tries to break the tension, “Kiibo should…probably not be left alone for a while. Not that I don’t trust Miu, but—”

“I don’t trust her,” Kaito interjects.

“Me neither,” Maki gives him a icy look.

Shuichi sighs. “At least we’re all on the same page. Is that okay with you, Kiibo?”

“ _Please_ ,” the hint of desperation in his tone is not lost on Shuichi. “I, um,” that strange throat-clearing noise again, “I appreciate the learning experience, but I would prefer not to be…alone.” He hesitates for a moment before adding, in a small voice, “Could I ask, um…Shuichi, if you would…you said you’d teach me how to…” he trails off, entire face flushing bright pink.

“I said I’d— _oh._ ” He _did_ just promise, didn’t he? “Right. Well, I don’t mind. I don’t have plans for today, so if that’s what you want, I’ll stay with you.”

Kiibo nods, posture visibly relaxing.

That settled, the group disperses, Kaito lingering just long enough to clap Shuichi on the back and wish him a hearty “Good luck.”

Shuichi takes one good, long look at Kiibo and decides the dorms are probably the best place to be. He’s not exactly sure how—or even _if—_ Kiibo sleeps, but the privacy and quiet certainly won’t do him any harm. In lieu of sticking around for breakfast, he grabs an orange from the table, flashing what he hopes is a confident smile and gesturing for Kiibo to follow him into the hall.

They walk the length of the building in silence, broken only by their footsteps and an odd little coughing sound Kiibo makes that, judging by the look on his face, must feel highly unnatural. When they reach the dorms, Shuichi wastes no time in unlocking his own door, Kiibo trailing behind somewhat uneasily as it swings shut behind them.

“Oh,” Shuichi stops himself just after Kiibo takes a seat on the edge of the bed, “I wasn’t thinking—is there anything you need from your room?”

Kiibo shakes his head. “No, not at the moment. If I was going to charge, then yes, but I won’t be due for that for another…” he pauses, obviously running some sort of internal calculation, “…three days or so. Maybe longer.”

“That’s amazing,” Shuichi responds, impressed.

“Thank you!” Kiibo beams, “The professor was very adamant about keeping me up and about, rather than plugged into the wall. Not that I _mind_ being plugged into the wall, but…” a strange look crosses over his face.

When he doesn’t immediately dive back into his praises of the professor, Shuichi knows something must be wrong. “Are you okay?”

Kiibo stills, frowning now. His breath—or whatever the robot equivalent to breath _is—_ hitches softly, and Shuichi fumbles for the box on the bedside table. Kiibo looks anxious, a little “ _hih_ …” sound escaping his throat as Shuichi sits beside him, gently pressing a tissue over his nose and mouth.

“You don’t have to fight against it, it’ll be okay if you just let it happen,” he explains, trying to maintain a soothing tone.

Kiibo nods once, and—as if Shuichi’s words had given him permission to do so—his whole face scrunches up, eyes shutting tight against an expulsive, “— ** _TSH!_** _Hh— **TCSH!** Hih…hhh—hp **TCH!**_ ” he sniffles wetly, looking dazed, but Shuichi only presses more firmly to his nose.

“You’re gonna blow your nose now, okay?” he explains, waiting until Kiibo makes eye contact to continue, “I’ll pinch one side shut, and then the other. All you have to do is force air out.”

“Okay…” Kiibo agrees, a rasp present in his voice that had definitely _not_ been there earlier. He does as he’s told, with a little prompting, and Shuichi tries to remind himself that, despite how icky it may feel, at least he’s not saddled with a patient who is actually _contagious._

A consolation he’s not able to fully appreciate while holding someone else’s sodden tissue in his bare hand.

He disposes of it in the waste-bin with as little disgust as he can manage, turning his attention back to the robot in question. Kiibo fidgets, humiliation clearly written across his features, so Shuichi puts on his best caretaker face and soldiers on as if there _aren’t_ a million totally weird things he wants to know.

Instead, he settles for, “You think you can manage that on your own next time?”

Kiibo ponders for a moment. “I…think so, yes.”

“Good,” Shuichi feels a wash of relief. “If you have any questions, you can just ask… In the meantime, how are you feeling? Other than the sneezing, I mean.”

Kiibo’s gaze flits from side to side, “I feel kind of…tired…” he admits, waiting for Shuichi’s small nod of encouragement to continue, “…and my whole body aches like it needs maintenance, even though Miu just went over everything the other day. My temperature regulation is off, my throat feels weird, my head feels heavy, and my nose is…itchy, I suppose?” he sounds unsure. “I don’t have a good point of reference for any of this, so please tell me if I’m being ridiculous.”

“No, that seems about right,” Shuichi takes a moment to think, “Do you, um…sleep?” he wants to smack himself for the blunt inquiry, mentally gearing up for the inevitable twenty-minute lecture on robophobia.

Shockingly, though, Kiibo nods. “I do. I don’t know if it will aid in my recovery—Miu wasn’t exactly…clear on the details—but I’d be willing to try. I sort of feel like I could…use it…” the last few words are spoken so quietly Shuichi has to lean in to properly hear them.

“That’s normal when you’re not feeling well,” Shuichi tells him, to his obvious relief. “Some rest might do you good. How do you usually…?” he hopes Kiibo catches the hint.

“In…bed?” though he doesn’t sound particularly annoyed, he _is_ giving Shuichi a look that says he’s questioning his intelligence, “How do _you_ sleep?”

“I—never mind,” Shuichi doesn’t really have the mental stamina to get into this right now. “Do you want to sleep under the blankets, or is there some sort of overheating issue I should be worried about?”

“Most of the systems that require a lot of power turn off when I’m asleep, so underneath is fine. I prefer it that way.” A shadow of apprehension crosses over Kiibo’s face, “But it’s rude for me to impose on you like this, I think.”

Shuichi immediately shakes his head. “If I minded, I wouldn’t have offered.” He stands, walking to the head of the bed and pulling back the duvet. “In you go.”

Kiibo wavers for just a few seconds before reluctantly shuffling into the middle of the mattress, much like a child caught awake past bedtime. And while tucking a robot into bed isn’t the _weirdest_ thing Shuichi’s ever done, he still chalks it up as a somewhat surreal experience.

“I remain receptive to outside stimuli when I’m asleep, so please wake me if you need to.”

“I will, I will,” reflexively, Shuichi smoothes a few loose strands of hair away from Kiibo’s face, both surprised and delighted when the corners of Kiibo’s mouth quirk upward. He keeps up the hair-petting for a minute, feeling himself blush despite his best efforts at how utterly _content_ Kiibo looks under his ministrations.

It’s not long before he’s watching with rapt attention as things gradually begin to shut down. Kiibo’s eyes close, expression slackening as his conscious thought processes begin to slow. A collection of whirring noises diminishes into a soft background hum, and the thrum of electricity just below the surface quiets until it’s barely a whisper.

Because Kiibo lays perfectly still, Shuichi can’t help but find those small noises comforting. Though he knows it’s somewhat absurd, they serve as proof that his friend remains alive in there somewhere.

Mind at ease, Shuichi retreats to the desk chair and pulls out the orange and a tattered paperback novel. It’s not necessarily his first choice of afternoon activity—he finds he’s been spending a lot of positive time with his classmates as of recently—but beggars can’t be choosers, and he would never betray Kiibo’s trust by leaving him alone in such a state. That unspoken promise in mind, he settles in for the long run.

* * *

 As it turns out, “the long run” is approximately forty-five minutes.

Kiibo shifting around in bed had startled the living hell out of Shuichi the fist time, but once he’d had a chance to think about it, it began to make more sense. After all, if Kiibo is to respond to stimuli while asleep, of course he has to be able to move. And if his AI brain is anywhere near as advanced as it’s supposed to be, it also follows that he probably experiences unconsciousness in a manner similar to humans.

Whether he _dreams_ or not is something Shuichi is absolutely dying to know, but that seems far too personal a question to just spring on someone like that—especially someone already suffering insecurities regarding his own place alongside humanity.

More concerning at the moment, however, is the fact that he’s coughing again, with increased frequency and a pinch to his facial features that can really only indicate discomfort. He’s restless, too—tossing and turning and getting himself hopelessly tangled in the duvet, a mess of limbs that can’t possibly be relaxing, robot or not.

It’s when he outright _whimpers_ between fits that Shuichi makes the tough decision to wake him. He quietly approaches the bed, giving Kiibo the gentlest shake he can manage. “Kiibo… _Kiibo_ ,” he murmurs, “wake up, okay? You’re okay, you just need t—”

Kiibo _gasps,_ bolting upright in bed, and that’s all it takes.

The coughs that wrack his frame are beyond wretched—desperate hacks against some real or imagined foreign substance that needs to get _out._ Shuichi isn’t sure _if_ or _how_ or _what_ or _why_ Kiibo breathes, but if the blind panic on his face is anything to go by, something in the process is going dreadfully wrong.

Shuichi sits beside him, taking on most of his weight in an effort to keep him upright. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he promises, rubbing his back through the blanket. “It’s fine, you’re doing good.” Kiibo shakes his head, obviously disagreeing with Shuichi’s placations, but the fact that he’s even able to do so in the first place is an indication that they’re headed in the right direction.

When he finally has a handle on himself, the first thing out of his mouth is, “I feel so much _worse_ ,”—tone just accusatory enough that Shuichi almost feels the need to defend himself. He _looks_ worse, though, there’s no denying that. With Kiibo’s hair a mussed disaster, eyes red and nose streaming, face flushed and whole body trembling, Shuichi wishes there was more he could do.

“I’m sorry,” he says, because it seems like the right thing to say. He gives Kiibo a little half-hug, which he sinks into all too readily. “That happens sometimes when you’re laying flat for a while. I should’ve brought more pillows.”

“It’s not your fault,” Kiibo sniffs ineffectively, “I feel very foolish for ever wanting to experience this.”

“It’s only natural you did,” Shuichi counters, offering him the box of tissues, “it’s something you were curious about. That’s reasonable.”

Kiibo takes a tissue from the box, but his hand only makes it halfway to his face before he halts, breath stuttering in a way Shuichi has already grown accustomed to. “ _Hh—_ ” Shuichi carefully guides his frozen hand to cover with the tissue, “— _h- **TCH**! Huh—p **TSCH!** Hh—hhh…_” Kiibo trails off, rubbing fiercely at his abused nose in an effort to dissipate the irritating sensation.

Shuichi wordlessly offers him another tissue—followed by three more—before he finally calls it quits.

“There’s… _pressure,_ id by…” perturbed, Kiibo gestures towards his own face, and Shuichi nods sympathetically.

“Congestion. Yeah, it’s…it does that. It might give you a headache, too.”

Kiibo flops backwards onto the bed, hiding his face beneath both hands, “I did’t thigk it could get _worse!_ ”

Shuichi is glad Kiibo can’t see him from his current position, or he’d have to hide his grin. He knows it’s slightly cruel, and he really does feel _sorry_ for the guy, but it’s also not every day you see someone dealing with the common cold for the very first time _._ It’s…cute, in a way, to see Kiibo undone by something he knows to be so very everyday and harmless.

…He’ll keep that thought to himself, though.

Before he has a spare moment to think his way out of it, Shuichi retreats to the headboard. He leans up against it, pushing the singular pillow behind his back for some semblance of support, and opens his arms invitingly. “Do you want to lay with me for a while?” he hopes his nerves don’t show _too_ badly in his voice, “If you sit up more while you rest, you shouldn’t have as much of a problem with the coughing, and you’ll sleep better.”

Kiibo stares at him like he’s just grown two heads, but he doesn’t protest. Instead, he simply asks, “Are you sure?” tone wavering a bit, “Though I ab lightweight for a robot, I have bed expressly told that I ab dot _light_.”

 _That’s_ what he’s worried about? Shuichi gives him a smile he hopes is reassuring. “I’m sure—if it’s really too much, I’ll tell you, okay?”

A long, pensive silence follows, but eventually Kiibo agrees, scooting up to join Shuichi at the head of the bed. He’s right in that he weighs much more than a human his size would, but what Shuichi finds more strange is the sensation of wrapping his arms around the robotic body. He’d expected all of Kiibo to be cool to the touch, but instead he has a soft sort of almost-warmth radiating from his core. Shuichi is tempted to ask if this is usual for him—is it possible he’s running some sort of fever?—but a none-too-gentle metal elbow to the stomach demands his more immediate attention.

“Kiibo, you—” the bruising intrusion quickly recedes, and, though he’s not in a position to see Kiibo’s face, he has the distinct impression he’s sulking.

Sure enough, “I believe I explaid that this would likely dot be a cobfortable experiedce for you.”

Shuichi resists the urge to roll his eyes in favor of pulling the duvet up to cover them both. “Are _you_ comfortable?”

He shifts slightly, sinking down until his head is nestled in the crook of Shuichi’s neck. “…Yes,” he concedes, “but if you—”

“ _Shh_ ,” Shuichi pets Kiibo’s hair affectionately, and he falls silent. “Relax, okay? You’re not hurting me. Just get some rest—I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Though Kiibo says nothing, his body betrays him almost immediately. Shuichi feels the hard line of his shoulders loosen up, the almost imperceptible weight shift as he unwinds bit by bit. He’s obviously exhausted—whether from being sick or otherwise—and Shuichi is just grateful he’d given in so easily.

In all honesty, it’s really _not_ the most comfortable Shuichi has ever been. Kiibo is made up of a lot of angles, not exactly optimized for cuddling. But rather than the big picture, it’s the little things—the sleepy, appreciative noise he makes when Shuichi cards his fingers through his hair, the way his fingers curl protectively in the fabric of the blanket, the way his head lolls to the side as he slowly loses his battle with consciousness—that feel the most rewarding.

So yeah, Shuichi might be achy and stiff _himself_ by the time this is through, but one glance down at Kiibo’s sleeping face is enough to know he’d made the right call.

And if Kiibo _does_ dream throughout all of this, Shuichi can only hope they’re happy ones.


End file.
